For anyone who missed the Weekend Australian Magazine article... here it is in full:
Power play
January 31, 2009 Article from: The Australian
Clive Palmer's money and connections make him a force to be reckoned with in Queensland. Sean Parnell meets the mining mogul.
Clive Palmer likes some aspects of his life to remain a mystery. Get the self-made billionaire, mining magnate and aspiring political king-maker started on Australian politics or business and there’s a healthy dose of big talk and swagger, but mention anything too personal and he ducks and weaves faster than the days when he was running around the footy field as a teenage winger for the Southport Tigers rugby league team. Yes, I can talk to his wife, Anna. No, sorry. He’s just packed her and their baby daughter Mary off on a month’s holiday overseas – but maybe she’ll call. How about we snap you relaxing at your luxury Brisbane home? Sure. Ah, actually, maybe not. At the Hyatt Regency Coolum then? Yes – but not in his room.
Cross too many of Palmer’s personal boundaries and you might have to see him in court: a notorious litigant (he once listed it as a hobby in his Who’s Who entry), he has sued, among many others, Ray Martin and Channel 9 for their reporting of him. “Honesty,” he says, “is very important and you shouldn’t be afraid to defend yourself if you haven’t done anything wrong.” He pauses for a moment before confidently claiming: “I’ve never lost a case.”
Still, Palmer has left himself exposed in the past. Back in 1981, when he was 27, he wrote a little red book of verse called Dreams, Hopes and Reflections designed to woo his future first wife, Susan, and make a few extra dollars on the side. It may have had a limited print run but Southport library on the Gold Coast has an immaculate copy squirreled away in a back room – next door to the newspaper archives chronicling the relentless rise of Palmer’s business empire over the course of nearly three decades, first in property development and later in mining. “I am a dreamer / Who am I / I dream of peace of flowers in the sky / I dream of happiness / Why do I dream for understanding / Love to live by …”
AUDIO: Sean Parnell on Clive Palmer
The gap between dreams and reality can be deep, but within two years of these poetic “memoirs” being published Palmer had made enough money to retire on and live the good life with Susan, thanks to his astute real estate investments. “Have the strength to know what you are, what you want and work towards it with love in your heart, but don’t sell your soul for it because you just might find that you can’t buy it back,” he wrote.
The at-times mushy sentiments seem at fierce odds with Palmer’s hard-boiled business acumen: BRW last year estimated his personal wealth at $1.5 billion. (Palmer says the figure is too conservative and claims a fortune of $6.5 billion, which would make him the nation’s richest man). His private company, Mineralogy, owns about 160 billion tonnes of iron ore reserves in the Pilbara, which might yield vast profits in the decades to come, although Chinese demand is waning because of the global financial crisis. Late last year, at the suggestion of his 18-year-old son, Michael, Palmer seized control of the Queensland-based company Waratah Coal, which holds huge, undeveloped thermal coal resources in the Galilee Basin. “I only had to look at the figures with Michael, look at what they’re doing, and decide, yes, we can do that, in about three minutes,” Palmer gloats.
The burly 54-year-old maintains lavish homes in Brisbane, the Gold Coast, Perth and Beijing, runs three private jets and two helicopters, has dined with Vladimir Putin and Pope Benedict, counts US Senator Ted Kennedy as a good friend, and has had John Howard over for steak and oysters. He established Cold Mountain Stud to upgrade the bloodlines of Australian harness pacers, and last year flamboyantly celebrated his $6 million purchase of soccer team Gold Coast United by landing his helicopter near the team’s new home ground, Skilled Park, and announcing to reporters that GCU was a new A-League heavyweight. Soccer, he declared, was also the best game for lifting his profile in China.
A staunch Catholic, Palmer is setting up a $100 million charity for indigenous communities in the Pilbara, mainly to provide medical care, but his financial clout has become a migraine for Queensland’s Labor Government. A life member of the Nationals since 1990, he was a key figure in the recent merger of the Nationals and the Liberals, and now – as Queensland heads into a state election – he’s the powerful and generous sponsor of Lawrence Springborg’s bid to win the premiership. So powerful that Anna Bligh’s Government has accused Palmer of “buying” the Liberal National Party for his long-term business interests. “In my view, there is something just not right about one billionaire owning their own political party,” complains Bligh. “I don’t think that’s healthy in a democracy and I think Queenslanders are going to have a lot of questions about it.” Springborg has dismissed Labor’s claims as “almost hysterical supposition”. Palmer says they’re “bullshit”.
* * *
BLIGH’S ACCUSATIONS ARE A SORE POINT WITH Palmer, as he plonks himself down in a nondescript office in his Brisbane company HQ. “I don’t have a need for any more money, there’s nothing (any) Queensland Government can do for me, right? I’m better off than all the ministers. I’ve got my own jets, my jets are better than their jets, my helicopter is a better helicopter than their helicopter. What are they going to give me that I haven’t got already, right? Nothing, right? But they can give a lot to the people of Queensland.’”
Palmer’s son, Michael, as well as being active in his father’s business, is also running for the LNP in the northern Brisbane electorate of Nudgee, a safe Labor seat. Michael had his sights set on a winnable seat and would have been preselected had his father not intervened. “I don’t think you should go into parliament until you’re at least in your mid-20s,” he told his son, overlooking the fact that Springborg was elected at 21.
Palmer’s own early fortunes were closely tied to another political dynasty – the Bjelke-Petersens. Palmer was 29 and newly married in 1983 when Joh Bjelke-Petersen formed a historic government without the Liberals. Palmer volunteered for their re-election campaign and by 1986, the young businessman was official spokesman for the Nationals. Joh’s grand vision dovetailed perfectly with Palmer’s development ambitions. “When Joh came to power he decided that the Gold Coast was the place for high-rise buildings. Joh said to me, ‘All these developers will go broke anyway, Clive. Then we’ll have the best tourist industry in Australia because we’ll have so many high-rise buildings with so many cheap nights, all on the beach at Surfers.’”
Palmer’s critics claim he was one of the Gold Coast developers given favourable treatment. The Opposition at the time was highly critical of minister Russ Hinze’s intervention in a Sunshine Coast council planning matter that gave the green light to one of Palmer’s developments. Twenty years on, Palmer still insists he is free of any wrongdoing and claims his politics also made him a victim of “McCarthyist” witchhunts during the Fitzgerald Inquiry. At the end of the Joh era he largely dropped off the political radar to concentrate on his business interests, but over the past year his sponsorship of the LNP has put him firmly back in the spotlight. “It’s not my fault I have so much money,” he deadpans.
* * *
IN BRISBANE’S DISCREET Brookfield cemetery, a massive granite cross perched at the back of a sandstone courtyard marks Susan Palmer’s final resting place. It was built by Palmer after his wife died in 2006, struck down by liver cancer, diagnosed just months earlier.
Palmer’s face softens as he reflects on his first wife. “She was a lot better person than I was and she had a lot more compassion, you know, than I had.” The couple were married for just over 20 years and have two children – Michael, now 18, and Emily, 14.
Palmer’s 85-year-old mother, Nancy, says Susan’s death still affects him in ways he probably does not realise. “He used to always, about once a fortnight, send me a lot of flowers, but he hasn’t done it since (Susan’s death),” Mrs Palmer says, speculating that to her son, flowers might be a painful reminder of Susan’s funeral.
Palmer found solace with Anna Topalov, the Bulgarian-born widow of his friend Andrew Topalov, who died about the same time as Susan. A year later, the pair were married and now have a baby daughter, Mary, who is about to turn one. “Poor old Andrew had actually gone through the hospital system, had melanoma cancer, couldn’t get enough painkillers and things like that, been left to wait in public hospitals with tubes coming out of his face for four or five hours, had a horrific experience right the way through,” Palmer recalls. “He went through pain and suffering – if I had known that I would have made sure there were some resources to help him. It makes you angry.”
Palmer, who recently brought his extended family together for portraits at the plush Palazzo Versace on the Gold Coast, admits it’s a struggle at times to balance all his responsibilities. Asked if he considers himself a good parent, he chuckles and says: “I think I’m failing miserably. Whatever I’m doing I’m not doing enough. I’m going to try to do more in the future, now that you’ve raised it.”
He has spoken fondly of his own upbringing, in particular of his father, George, a silent-movie star in the ’20s who went on to set up radio station 3AK in Melbourne and advise prime minister Joe Lyons on media matters. Palmer once suggested his father was probably one of the first spin doctors. Like his father, young Clive showed an early interest in making money and connections, recalls his mother. Even as a kid in Melbourne he was nicking the household fruit and vegetables to sell off the back of his trike. But he kept his earnings hidden. “He used to bring it home and stick it under his mattress,” his mother says. She took comfort from the fact that, as he grew older, he would share his money with his sister and friends.
On the Gold Coast, where the family moved in 1963, Palmer attended St Vincent’s Primary School and Southport High, where he became involved in community organisations and later, briefly, the Young Liberals (at 21 he publicly described children’s homes as “breeding grounds for criminals of the future”). He was as quick on his feet as he was with his tongue, twice becoming high-school athletics champion (he set an age record for the 100m sprint) and playing on the wing in the rugby league team.
After dropping out of university, where he dabbled in law, politics and journalism, he went into real estate (he keeps renewing his agent’s licence, even now) just as the Gold Coast started to boom. He made millions and by the time he and Susan married in 1983 he was rich enough to retire and begin travelling the world with his bride. But within a couple of years, while on a cruise on the QEII with tourists three times his age, he realised he was bored: “I was as fat then as I am now – I realised what I needed to do was to get back working.”
He set up Australian Commercial Research & Development to exploit technologies developed in universities and research institutes, and registered several now-expired medical patents; took a stake in British company Defence Technology Enterprises; and created his enduring private company, Mineralogy. In 1985, after reading a magazine article about Russia’s interest in steel, Palmer bought the rights to a massive tranche of magnetite, a rougher source of iron ore, in the Pilbara region. He would spend the next 20 years trying to exploit that investment (initially with little success – the Russians offered to exchange the iron ore for cinnamon). After the stockmarket crash of 1987 he dropped efforts to float ACRD but went on to sue the ANZ, the University of Queensland and the Commonwealth for alleged breaches of contract in relation to the float. All three cases were settled out of court, but not without some comments from the courts that the proceedings verged on the vexatious.
By 1997, the then little-known Palmer was asking the NSW government to help him build a $2.5 billion steel mill in Newcastle, a proposal described at the time as “fanciful” and “suspect to say the least” by Hunter MP Richard Face. A departmental file note referred to a “$1 shelf company run by a husband and a wife” and then NSW premier Bob Carr accused Palmer of blackmail when the Queenslander threatened to take the project elsewhere. But when BHP closed its Newcastle operations in 1999 and another smelter proposal fell over, the Carr government backflipped and agreed to help fund the project being pushed by the Austeel corporation, chaired by Palmer. Up to 2500 permanent mill jobs were promised but within three years the project had collapsed, the NSW government blaming Palmer for not getting financial backing, and Palmer blaming the government for not securing land and completing early works to generate sufficient financial interest. Palmer insists he acted appropriately. Needless to say, the parties came to legal blows.
But it was in this decade, as the demand from China for iron ore kicked in, that Palmer’s Pilbara deposits started to pay off. China’s CITIC Pacific paid Mineralogy $US215 million for the right to mine an initial one billion tonnes of iron ore and promised big royalty payments for any future exports. Palmer continues to talk of a strong revenue stream of up to $500 million a year, but analysts are sceptical given the fall in the commodities market.
* * *
AT JOH BJELKE-PETERSEN’S STATE FUNERAL in Kingaroy almost four years ago, Palmer struck up a long conversation with the former premier’s son, John. It proved to be a defining moment – Palmer agreed to help John Bjelke-Petersen contest the seat of Nanango at the 2006 election. Although the seat would be held by popular independent Dolly Pratt, the die was cast. “I realised then that what was wrong with the Queensland political scene was the Opposition was too weak, it was too disjointed,” Palmer says. The Liberals, he says, had never recovered from when the coalition split in 1983 and forfeited their city heartland to Labor.
Palmer eventually raised his concerns with new Nationals president Bruce McIver who, like him, is a Christian and a successful businessman. Palmer bolstered McIver’s authority in the organisation and together they were instrumental in merging the Nationals and Liberals into the LNP, achieving Springborg’s dream of a single party capable of competing with Labor on equal terms. Palmer nominated McIver as inaugural president of the LNP and Springborg now finds himself with an outside chance of becoming premier. Palmer is disarmingly frank about the contender: “A lot of people have said about Lawrence he’s not the most political type of person, you know what I mean. He’s a good guy, we all like him. I mean, Joh might have been a more political person, you know what I mean? He (Springborg) hasn’t got that hard edge on him, but he’s a decent bloke and if you ask Lawrence what sort of Queensland he wants he says he wants one that works, you know?”
Palmer wants “a say” in the LNP, despite the obvious pitfalls of mixing business and politics. “You’d hate to be a member of something for 46 years of your life and then have the premier of the day tell you that you couldn’t support a political party you believe in and try to ostracise you,” he says.
He seems to relish his return to a more public role in the party, repeatedly diverting conversation to an issue close to his heart: Labor’s management of the health system. “In the last quarter of 2008, in September, the figures were 3770, I think, late operations in Queensland; 183 of them were life-threatening. In politics, John Kennedy said we should all stand as individuals – we could all make a difference – and at least we should all try, right? I think if we can make a difference to make sure one of those 183 life-saving operations that were missed, right, is not you or your children, right, well that’s a good thing.”
Speculation Palmer is bankrolling the LNP persists, although he maintains his contributions are nowhere near the millions of dollars they are rumoured to be. Bligh even changed the laws governing political donations – only one of the means by which Palmer could help the LNP – in a bid to reveal links between the billionaire, amongst others, and political parties. Officially, in 2006-07, Mineralogy donated only $60,500 to the Queensland Nationals, although Palmer gave more to the governing federal Liberals and WA Labor Party. (Figures for 2007-08 will be released on Monday.) McIver is not shy about saying he expects a donation for the upcoming campaign (Palmer has also offered the use of his jet, and has previously helped out with his helicopter). McIver has also gone into business with Palmer and acknowledges he has an unusual style: “He takes a different investment approach to business than most … but his judgment on issues and his reading of people is very astute,” he says.
Palmer is something of a loner within Queensland business circles and seems to prefer trusted and familiar faces rather than highly qualified unknowns. He co-founded Mineralogy with his first wife, Susan; his late aunt, Jean Mensink, sat on the board of some companies; his nephew, Clive Mensink, is heavily involved in various ventures, as is his school friend and right-hand man, Geoff Smith.
Among his diverse social network the most common observation about Palmer is that he is generous. His parish priest, Father Peter Quin, says Palmer once told him: “God’s been good to me, so I want to be good to others.” At charity auctions he will often go head-to-head with his son to raise the price, but he’s also known to respond to individual requests for help. “A lot of people are not really in trouble, but they think they are,” Palmer insists. “One guy wrote to me the other day and said he had a Bentley, and he had a house, and he had $200,000 debt on the house and his wife was going to leave him because he hadn’t paid off the house. Well, all he had to do was sell the Bentley, but he thought he could never sell the Bentley because the Bentley was his baby. Now, that sort of guy is not in trouble.”
Palmer’s biggest philanthropic outlay may well be the $100 million fund he has promised Aboriginal communities in the Pilbara. He’s a pragmatist, though. “A lot of my colleagues go in very rational and they try to sit down with Aborigines and at the end of the day the Aborigines will get up, swear at them, throw a pumpkin or something at them and throw them out. The guys will say, ‘How can you negotiate with that, how can you deal with that?’ What they’ve got to realise is, this is the first formal time those Aborigines have sat down with anybody. They’ve seen their children die, a lot of them be incarcerated and people die early. So inside them there’s a lot of anger.”
As highly engaged and successful a Queenslander as he is, Palmer is easily perceived as an outsider and somewhat of an underdog. Despite his colourful flourishes at times he is not naturally charismatic and can sometimes appear, well, a little on the daggy side. And for all his winning business gambles, you might be forgiven for thinking Palmer has had more than his fair share of good luck. “He appears not to be the man that he is, but when you get to know the man he’s that and a bag of chips, I can tell you,” McIver says.
A big man, Palmer makes fun of his appearance but retains vanities such as dyeing his hair and using the title “professor” (from an adjunct professor’s stint at university) when it suits him. He is quick to name-drop and says he was recently invited to help the exclusive Club of Madrid, an organisation of former heads of state and government: “I would be the only Australian on it, and they want me to see if I will join, which I might or might not.” And what would he get out of it? “Intellectual stimulation, I guess.”
While Palmer’s continued success is far from guaranteed – the much-hyped $5 billion float of his company Resource Development International is on hold – he does not envisage a second retirement any time soon. “I don’t take my own career too seriously, right? I’m not worried if I fail tomorrow, because there’s been so many bad things written about me over the years, terrible things, rotten things, your, sort of, self-image is not something you think about.”
He is pensive for a moment. “I think people worry too much about their failures. I’ve failed more than probably anyone else in the state, but when I’ve failed I’ve learnt from it and got up and kept going.”
Sean Parnell is a senior journalist on The Australian. His previous story for the magazine was “Slippery business” (May 31-June 1, 2008), about Speedo’s LZR Racer bodysuit.
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